


My Greatest Fear

by badjujuboo (miztrezboo)



Series: Twenty Five Days of Lirry Christmas [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-04
Updated: 2013-12-04
Packaged: 2018-01-03 11:31:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1069966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miztrezboo/pseuds/badjujuboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's going to New York for six months so if Liam leaves first it's only to stop his heart from hurting more than it already does. </p>
<p>Or the one where they should have said SOMETHING instead of the lies that fell from each of their tongues which hurt more than truths ever would of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Greatest Fear

**Author's Note:**

> ahh so my head cold has prevented this from being a one a day thing but.. here's 7k.. does that make up for it? I'll get extras done alone the way i'm sure! 
> 
> As always, unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine (and everything is always for erin and morgan because).

"Don't go."   
Two words and Liam is closing his eyes, smile falling from his face from waving Zayn bye at the door.

"Li, Liam. Don't go,"

Liam can't even breathe, his chest _aches_ and his heart - well, his heart hasn't been that great in the past few months - but this just feels like the tiny patches he'd hoped would hold it together are being ripped in half. His last day in town. Last _night_ and he can't even have that.

"Are you, are you there Liam?"

Liam blinks, nods slowly even though he knows it can't be seen, turning and taking in the boxes around him. He's been packed for weeks, really. This is just the end of it. The singular life left on the sink: one plate, one knife, one fork, one mug for his tea and the tea towel to wipe it all up with at the end of each lonely night. All the parts of _them_ are gone. Either hidden in cardboard and wrapping or shipped off with Niall who'd always been a friend to them both.

The flat was so empty. Just Liam and his boxes and his ticket home to Wolverhampton and away from this city that held so much of them. All of them. Every street corner a memory - the bakery where they met, the bus stop where they'd had their first kiss, the club where Liam had lost more than just his wallet one night - everywhere, they _were_ the city. These moments that Liam had thought were building into a something were apparently nothing at all.

Liam wasn't entirely sure where who they were ended and the city began. Which is why he had to leave really. 

"I'm here," he manages to get out after clearing his throat. He doesn't want to talk. Doesn't want to give anymore of his time than he has to to this. To this heart ache that he can't shift, not while he's here. Not while every where he looks there's a memory of what they could have been. What they should have been.

"Oh, oh good. I thought. I thought i'd missed you," he laughs and Liam has to close his eyes because he knows that sound. Can feel it down to his toes. This isn't fair at all.

"I'm just on my-"

"I wanted to-"

They still and stop and Liam tries to breathe because it doesn't feel like he's even doing _that_ anymore.

He'd hoped it wouldn't come to this. That he could just leave, slip quietly out of the city that had held him close, taken him in and slowly became a part of his life. Of course it couldn't be that easy. Not with them. Not with _him_ , rather. Nothing ever was.

"Are you, are you at home?" Another breath and Liam can almost see him shaking his head, wild dark curls flying everywhere, "Of course you are, I'm ringing you on the house line. I," a pause, he'll be licking his lips, pinching at the bottom one like he's wont to do when he's nervous. Good. "Can I come. . would it be alright if I come over? I just-"

"Harry," Liam says and it's like the word is punched from his chest as he falls back onto the sofa, the ratty one they'd picked up on the side of the road and spent half a bloody night dragging back with them to their first flat. The one they'd never really been able to let go of, three moves later. 

Goodwill were to pick it up in the morning, before Liam got on the train.

"I know. It's not. It's not a good idea is it?"

"Harry," Liam starts but it's this shaky thing. This gasp of air shifting through his lungs because it _hurts_ to say his name. Hurts to even have to hear Harry's voice on the phone.

Three weeks. Three _weeks_ of nothing. Of Liam hoping that Harry would call or text or _something_ and nothing. Not a word and now when he's finally. He's.

"I'm leaving tomorrow. I'm all packed and I'm _leaving_ tomorrow. You can't. You." he stops, swallowing hard on things he wants to say, wants to _scream_ but he can't. Won't. It won't change anything at all.

"I know. I know that and I know I've waited too long but please, please, Liam. Just this once," 

And it would be so easy to give in. To tell Harry to drop on by. That he'll be inside. 

Harry still has his key, that much Liam _does_ know.

"Liam, _please,_ " Harry says so softly, so etched with hurt that Liam feels it in his bones. Feels it in all the places knowing someone for as long as they've known each other can possibly hear a tone like that echo.

He's going to regret this. He knows it as he says yes, shaking his head at the same time. He knows it as Harry thanks him over and over again before ending their call.

He sits and he waits because whatever Harry wants it's fine. Liam has nothing left to give because Harry's taken it all before. 

Harry knocks before he opens the door. Always so polite and well mannered. Even in times like this.

Liam stares at the floor, watches as Harry's scuffed brown boots come into view. The ones Liam tried to throw out a few times when they'd gotten so full of holes Harry'd had to wear plastic baggies over his socks to keep the rain out. That's another thing he wouldn't miss. The rain. It always felt so _wet_ here, or maybe that was just the last few months. 

"Hi,"

Harry's voice is loud in the room. There's no other sound to compete with it. No vinyl records with Elvis crooning all warm and low. No vibrant laughter as they watch one of thousands of tv shows they've seen hundreds of times before, but still laugh in the same places. Not even the fridge humming and cutting in and out, flickering the lights, as it's done since they first bought it, because Liam had turned that off for Goodwill in the morning, also. 

"You look-"

"I look like shit, Harry. What do you want? Why are you here?" Liam asks tersely, still not lifting his eyes from the floor because maybe if he can fake this indifference, Harry will leave him alone once and for all.

"I had to. I. . . you're my best friend, Liam. You were that before anything, you've always been that. I couldn't let you go without seeing you. I had to say-"

Liam sighs, rubbing at his eyes and leaning back into the plush cushions behind him. "Goodbye? Because I think you've already said that. You made yourself loud and clear, I remember."

Liam does. He remembers he and Harry being on the verge of _something_. They'd both been single for a while and they'd got drunk a few times and snogged a bit but it wasn't anything that they hadn't done before. Not for a while, that was a given, because they'd both come out of mostly long term relationships but still. It didn't feel like those times. It felt like something more. Niall's birthday changed things. 

They'd been drunk - but not too drunk - when they'd got a cab home. Then it was a few beers from the fridge and then snogging, but that wasn't unusual. What was unusual was Harry between Liam's legs and Harry's mouth on Liam's cock until he came, whispering Harry's name into the night. It felt like seconds later and Liam's back was on Harry's bed and Harry was looking at him really _looking_ at him as he opened Liam up and it was shaky breaths where lips just skated over the others. Murmurs of half formed words whispered against heated skin and Harry coming so hard he had tears in his eyes. 

They didn't talk about it. Never talked about that night. But they did get off with each other more after that. Lips, teeth, tongue and fingertips mapping out skin that previously had been out of touch, out of reach. Never again was it in a bed. Never again did they go as far as they had that one night. Liam couldn't find the courage to ask - too busy enjoying what they _did_ get up to together - and then when he was going to, it was too late to ask at all. 

He'd made dinner, this little pasta dish that wasn't hard to fuck up and that Harry liked. He'd got a bottle of red that Harry'd mentioned liking one time and Harry'd greeted him with a kiss when he'd come in the door. They'd eaten and conversation was easy right up until desert. Liam was scraping the last of his ice cream from the bowl when Harry'd cleared his throat. He didn't hesitate, didn't look anywhere else but straight into Liam's eyes, and Liam was _smiling_ thinking maybe, just maybe Harry's lead in of "I have something I wanted to talk to you about," was going to be a positive. Then Harry told him about this job offer in New York helping out one of Nick's old friends, and it wasn't a question of if he should go, but when. 

_"It's not like there's anything here for me is there,"_ Harry had said and Liam had blinked and watched as Harry refilled their glasses, like he hadn't just completely torn Liam's world apart.

The stupid thing is, now Liam is the one who's leaving because he just can't handle sitting around waiting for Harry to go. He's getting in first and it's ridiculous but it's the only thing Liam can think of to protect himself from watching Harry disappear entirely from his life. Because he will. He'll be in America and befriending all these cool people that Liam wouldn't even _know_ where to start a conversation with and they'll _love_ him and he'll _love_ them and he'll love the city and he'll never come back.

He'll never come back.

So Liam's leaving first.

"I never said I wasn't coming back, Li. It's only for six months. That's it."

Liam shrugs, because six months isn't half of it. He heard Harry talking to Nick. Heard Nick saying that if he played his cards right it could turn into a year. Could end up even longer.

And of course they'd love Harry. Everyone loved Harry. These pretentious fashion wankers would love his British accent and his manners and his stupid good organisational skills and he'd be the best PA that this Chung woman would ever have and he'd never come home. He'd never come back to Liam.

"You're my best friend, Liam, shouldn't you be happy for me?"

Liam shakes his head and snorts, finally opening his eyes to look at Harry. "Of course I'm happy for you. I'm fucking ecstatic that you're doing this. Fucking off and leaving me here alone,"

Harry's eyes widen, all big and green and _how_ had Liam forgotten how beautiful they really were? Especially when, like now, they were flashing with something bordering on hurt and anger.

"Me leaving you? You're the one shipping home. I'm not leaving for a few months and you've already gone!" 

"Well, it's not like there's anything keeping me here is there?" Liam snarks and he can feel his face heat as he spits out the words. The same words Harry broke his heart with a few weeks before.

Harry reels, stepping back slightly and oh, maybe Liam's hit home with this. This honesty he didn't really want to admit to because of the way Harry dismissed what they were to each other with one sentence.

"I'm here! I'm still here. I've been here all this time and you never," Harry rubs a hand over his face, the silver rings glinting in the afternoon light coming in from the window. "You didn't ask. You didn't _say_ anything, Liam,"

Liam stands, feeling jittery as their voices get louder, become harsher. "I didn't have to. You said you were going. What _could_ I possibly add?"

"You could have asked me to stay."

Harry stares at him, mouth open like the words weren't supposed to fall from his lips. His chest shifts rapidly in and out under the shades of blue and green that make up the long sleeved flannel he's wearing over a plain white shirt that Liam thinks could possibly be his. He looks like all Liam's ever wanted but never actually asked for because he didn't think he could.

They were friends. Best friends. That was all. No matter how much Liam had thought - hoped - it could be different.

"You could have asked me," is all Liam says softly in return. He can't, he could never ask Harry to give up on an opportunity like New York. He could never ask Harry to give up on possibilities that Harry's always dreamed of.

Harry lets out this long breathe, chin dropping down to his chest as he nods. 

"I thought. I thought maybe with me and then you-" Harry laughs and then stops short, "I don't know _what_ I thought. You're just, you're my best friend Liam. I don't want to throwaway our friendship over this. You're my _best friend_ ," Harry stares at Liam and Liam can see so much truth in his gaze, the pout of his lips, the way that one curl falls over his forehead, refusing to sit behind Harry's ear.

Liam doesn't know what to say. It's not like this is his choice either, but Harry's leaving and Liam. . . his heart just can't take being relegated to friend anymore. He can't be here and have Harry call - because he will - and tell Liam all about his conquests and life over there. He can't listen for that change in Harry's tone when he's really interested in someone, when he's falling in love with someone that isn't Liam. He just can't, not anymore.

"Have fun in New York, Harry," he lies.

Harry looks stricken, curling in on himself for a moment before he straightens and gets this hardness in his eyes, lips curled into a sneer Liam's never been on the other side of before.

"Fuck you, Li. Fuck you." 

Harry turns and walks out the door, pausing only to drop his keys on the floor.

And that's that. They're done. 

It's over. 

 

: : :

 

It's four months later and Liam's asleep when the phone rings.

He yawns a hello into the receiver, not bothering to look for caller id because it'd have to be someone important to call at whatever hour of the morning it was now.

There's the sound of music and people in the background and Liam calls out hello once more when there's no answer.

There's heavy breathing, though, which immediately has Liam guessing one person in particular.

He laughs, closing his eyes because this shouldn't be too long a call.

"Andy, Andy it's time you go to bed mate. What club are you at? I'll call you a cab,"

"Liam," this voice says and the smile that was lingering on Liam's face vanishes in a second.

"Are you there?"

Liam swallows hard at where a lump has now bubbled up in his throat. Harry. Harry who's been in New York since June. Four whole months since the last time Liam heard his voice.

He sounds exactly the same.

"Happy birthday, Liam," Harry sing songs and it sounds a little off, even to Liam's ears that haven't heard Harry's voice in so long.

He clears his throat. "It's not my birthday."

"No? It is so. It's the twenty-ninth. I checked," Harry says, sounding almost proud and with the slight slur to his words Liam knows he's drunk. Of course he is. Why else would he have found reason or need to call?

Liam rolls onto his back, yawns and almost lets himself feel fond for a moment before remembering he doesn't do that anymore. "Of September, Harry. My birthday's in-"

"August. Right, yeah. Fuck. Happy month after your birthday?" Harry sings again and hiccups at the end which Liam feels a little like a thaw in spring right in that hard place in his heart. That Harry place he boarded up hoping never to have to use again.

"Thanks I guess," Liam says, keeping his tone even because even though it's everything he doesn't want to acknowledge hearing Harry's voice - after all this time - he really. He can't do this. It still _hurts_.

"What you been up to, Li?" Harry asks after a few seconds of awkward silence fill the air and Liam wishes he had interesting things to say. Anything but the truth. That even here, at home in the little flat he's rented on the other side of town from his parents he still stays home. Still finds himself drinking stupid hard lemonade because it was Harry's favourite and so what, Liam likes the taste. Still says no to every invite his friends give him to actually go out. To meet people. People that aren't Harry.

"Keeping busy." It's not exactly a lie. It's not the truth either.

"Right, right. Me, too. I went to this party the other-"

"Harry," Liam cuts him off because he hasn't heard from Harry since the day before he left London and now it's four fucking months later and Harry's just going to start _chatting_ at five in the morning?

"Li, I - I miss you-"

Liam squeezes his eyes shut tight, hand clenched on his phone so hard he can feel the plastic giving a little. This isn't. This wasn't supposed to happen. He was supposed to disappear in New York and leave Liam alone. Alone with a love that never was.

"Don't," he manages. "Don't, Harry. Don't say you. Don't say that."

"I do though. I do. I miss you so fucking much it's all I can think about. You're all I can think about. Your laugh, your smile. The way you make that little snuffle when you wake up. How you never wash your cereal bowl, just rinse it out and leave it on the sink. I miss your smell, Liam. I miss the way you make ridiculous faces in the mirror when you brush your teeth. I miss the way you let me fall asleep on your shoulder. I miss your voice. I miss _you_ ,"

Liam says nothing, just listens as each word from Harry tears his insides apart. His eyes sting with the tears he refuses to shed. Not again. Not anymore.

"You're drunk. You're drunk and you don't know what you're saying," Liam says quietly because any louder and Harry'll hear how he's got a few tears rolling down one cheek. He'll hear how much this _hurts_ Liam and Liam won't let him have that. Harry's had his fill of Liam. Liam won't let him have anymore.

"I'm not. I mean I am, but not. I just fucking miss you so much and I didn't want this. I wanted you to ask me and you didn't. You didn't. Why didn't you just ask?"

Ask what? Liam thinks. Because what could he possibly ask Harry to do? If Harry wanted to stay, he could have. He didn't have to break Liam's heart. He didn't have to just make a decision without even considering Liam at all. He never _asked_ Liam about leaving so why would Liam ask him to stay?

"I have to be up in two hours for work Harry. This was," Fun? Great? The worst thing ever? "Nice. Go find a cab or something and drink some water before you go to bed." Liam doesn't wait for Harry to answer, just shuts off his phone and puts it on silent dumping it on the bedside drawers. He hates that Harry still has this hold over him. Wonders how long it will have to be before it finally just _goes_.

: : :

He gets as far as this lads front door one night before he cocks it up. He can't remember his name - Sid or Steven or Simon - he doesn't really know. Can't remember if he asked. He remembers that it's Christmas tomorrow and the only reason he went out was because his sisters dragged him to the pub. They were tired of him "moping" and "living this half life" and he went because they pleaded and he could never really say no when it was the two of them. 

He went and he probably drank more than he should and it wasn't the usual place anyone would pick up at - it _was_ their local just a few doors down from his mum and dad's - but pick up, Liam did. Sid or Stewart or whoever he was, had lovely brown hair and nice hazel eyes and an accent that was a little bit Irish, a little bit not. Liam couldn't place it but it didn't matter once he'd smashed Liam on the pool table a few times and it was kind of sexy after a three rounds of beer with whiskey chasers. Then Liam wanted nothing more than to shut him up, kiss those ridiculous pink lips closed so he'd stop talking about Boston and missing home and had Liam ever been to New York? New York at Christmas was a sight to behold.

It's this, that Stew or Steve or Sandy is talking about when they're at his door, the lad trying to fit a key in the lock as Liam's gripping his hips, trying to keep himself upright. He's kind of antsy - the longer this lad talks about New York is getting to him - but Liam's randy and this lad is fit and if he'd just _shut up_ they could have something. Liam could have something and fuck he wants _something_ to make the nothing disappear for a moment. Just a minute.

If only he'd shut up.

"like, you should see Central Park, man. When it snows, like, when it really snows out, it's perfect. Like all those cards you see, right? And the churches? Choirs like angels. It's -"

"Magic," Liam interrupts because he's heard him say this, and Sal - _that's_ what it is - has finally opened the door. "Can we get inside already? It's fucking cold out," Liam says shoving at Sal with his hands. Needy to get in. To get naked. To get _rid_ of all the things he's kept locked in for far too long.

It's not like he's waiting on anyone to come home. It's not like he _should_ be waiting. It's not like Harry isn't doing something just as similar as Liam is right now. Probably has been since Liam left. Probably was all along. 

"Slow it down there, Liam. This won't be fun if you rush it," Sal smiles at Liam and fuck, how did Liam not notice that he has dimples? Fucking dimples.

Liam shakes his head, ignores the twinge in his chest and pushes Sal again, wraps one hand around his neck and pulls him in for a kiss. He nips at Sal's full bottom lip, tugs it out between his teeth before letting it go and diving in again for more. Sal stops him though with a shove on Liam's shoulder and Liam staggers backward, not that steady on his own feet after all the drinks from before.

"Fuck, you bit me!" Sal says and Liam laughs until another shove from Sal has him landing on his bum on the concrete below. "I don't care how hot you are, man. You don't fucking bite me." 

Sal disappears behind the door and Liam laughs some more because of _course_ the first time he really _tries_ to go home with someone, tries to be normal, he fucks it up. Royally.

It somehow still feels like it's Harry's fault.

He walks home, because it's not far - not really - and it's Christmas Eve, he's not in any rush to get back to his empty flat. He could head to his parents, but they're putting up Ruth and Nicola and Liam's old room was turned into the sewing room the year after he went to London. He and Harry had kipped in there one night years before. It was Easter or maybe Liam's mum's birthday and they'd taken hours to blow up a mattress using just their lungs because they couldn't find the attachment for the vacuum cleaner. They hadn't done anything but giggle that night, acting like the teens they once were under Liam's childhood roof. Telling ghost stories and Harry's dumb knock knock jokes that Liam couldn't help but laugh at.

Liam really couldn't face being in that room alone. 

There's a car out the front when he trudges up, the stereo is on pretty loud as is the heater if the fogged up windows are anything to go by. Liam wonders for a second if it's not something or someone else doing that. Some other lucky fucker that didn't screw up their night by being overzealous purely because of a facial anomaly. Dimples.

"Dimples!" he yells into the night, an echo of a dustbin lid falling and a cats yowl answering his call.

He's giggling, making his way up the few stairs to his door when he hears the car still behind him. Liam snorts, congratulating himself quietly on screwing up somebody else's evening. He's become quite the Scrooge of Sex tonight. He can't find it in himself to care.

"Liam?"

Liam stops. Squeezes his eyes tight and blinks them open, swaying a little with his hand in his pocket attempting to fish out his keys from the back pocket of his jeans that have fallen down, nearly past his bum. Thank goodness he put a belt on earlier tonight, it's the only thing really holding them up. 

"Liam, it's. I wasn't sure if this was the right place," Harry says and no. It can't be Harry, because Harry is in New York. Niall mentioned it last week when they were chatting over the phone, right before Niall left for Ireland. Zayn had gotten Louis to shut up when he'd started whining about Harry meeting Beckham at some party a few weeks before. Harry wasn't here.

"I am _so_ drunk," Liam says, mostly to himself and the figment of his imagination behind him. "You can't be Harry, because Harry's in New York. I am _so_ fucking drunk," Liam snorts, finally getting the key in the door and pushing it open.

He's about to make sure it locks behind him when he turns and finds the door being held open by Harry. A Harry who's hair is tucked up in a black beanie, black peacoat tight on his shoulders with a speckled black scarf wrapped twice around his throat.

A Harry who isn't _here_. Can't be here.

"I'm not in New York," the not Harry says. 

Liam laughs, tugging on Not Harry's scarf. "Yes you are. You are in New York meeting Posh Spice and playing in the snow in Central Park and riding a horse. Or in a carriage pulled by a horse. Ugh, maybe Sal lied. Sal had dimples," he tells Not Harry with a nod and Not Harry just looks confused.

"Sal? Who's Sal?" Not Harry asks as Liam turns away from him, climbing the stairs to where his flat is on the second floor. He can hear Not Harry following him so he leaves the door open again to let him in. It's only polite, really. Even if this is a figment of his imagination, Liam can still have manners.

"A man I kissed. I wanted him to be someone else but I guess, actually you're in New York so I can tell you," Liam sighs heading into the kitchen and pouring himself a glass of water straight from the tap. He really _is_ drunk and he knows he's going to feel this in the morning. Oh, right. Christmas morning. Thank goodness he only has to show up by lunch at his parents.

"Tell me what?" Not Harry says from behind Liam. Liam finishes the glass and pours another before he turns around.

Not Harry is standing there, fingering the little tassels at the end of his scarf, his hair is longer than Liam's Harry, he's taken his beanie off and it's on the bench behind him. It's longer and _just_ curls around his ears and if it was Real Harry, Liam may be tempted to pull on them to see if they still sprang up like his Harry's curls did. He's got his coat off too and it's more black. A black button down that fits really well or maybe Not Harry is just fitter than Real Harry was. Is. Liam wouldn't know.

"I would tell my Harry that I wanted it to be him. That I still miss him a lot. It hurts," Liam says, hitting a closed fist over his heart, "It hurts here and I thought it would get better. Me leaving first. But it didn't. Still hurts," he says, pounding his chest again for good measure.

Not Harry stares up at Liam and blinks and his eyes are _very_ green like Real Harry. So green Liam leans forward, momentum guiding him closer as he pokes at Not Harry's nose.

"I hate him, you see. I hate his dimples and his pretty eyes and the way he always has to brush his bloody hair out of his eyes. Should have cut it I told him. But he never did," Liam says, shaking his head from side to side before grabbing at Not Harry's hand and dragging him to the living room. 

He pulls Not Harry onto the sofa with him, resting his head against Not Harry's shoulder because even if this isn't real, Not Harry feels nice and not Harry is here and Real Harry is... well he's not.

"Sounds as if you didn't really like your Harry," Not Harry says and for a moment Liam thinks he sounds hurt. 

Liam yawns and pats Not Harry on his chest. "Nope. Not at all. He was the love of my life, still is. Probably always will be. Couldn't even kiss Sal because of the dimples." 

Liam laughs, an image of Sal's face when Liam got a bit rough kissing him popping into his mind as he snuggles down into Not Harry's side.

Not Harry pushes him down a little, lets Liam's head rest on his lap, runs his fingers through Liam's hair just like Real Harry used to. It's nice. Makes Liam sleepy so he closes his eyes.

"Did you ever, did you ever tell Harry that?"

"What?" Liam asks, yawning once more, tiredness filling his muscles and pulling his bones down until everything feels heavy. Everything but Not Harry's fingers combing through his hair.

"That you loved him. That you love him?" Not Harry asks softly and Liam shakes his head, sad and tired and having a conversation with an imaginary boy he loves more than he's willing to admit when sober.

"No. Was going to, but then he just. . . he left. He told me "there was nothing keeping him here," not even me. So I let him go."

If Not Harry answers, Liam isn't awake to hear it.

: : :

Liam doesn't own a cat.

Liam doesn't own a cat or a dog but yet he wakes with a mouthful of hair and even some tickling under his nose.

He lies there wondering just what he got up to the night before, when a loud snore has him pulling back, eyes opening wide.

Curls. It's not a cat or a dog or even a bloody goat it's curls and they belong to a _someone_ and Liam wonders how much he drunk the night before if he's waking up with someone else on his sofa. A someone that is decidedly male, if the dick that is _not_ his poking against Liam's thigh is anything to go by. Liam can't see much, just dark wavy hair and well, at least he thought to pull the knitted throw his mum had bought for him over them both. It's cold in the flat, the heat down low because Liam wasn't going to spend too much time at the flat today. Not on Christmas Day and now he has a someone in his flat and shit. Shit.

He pulled on Christmas Eve and brought them back here. 

How much did he _drink_ last night? There would be words to be had with his sisters. Later, when he could get up and get whoever this was to leave before the awkward truly set in.

Liam lays still, lets this other lad breathe on him for a little bit longer as he attempts to piece together the night before. He remembers a few jaeger bombs that Nic insisted on. He remembers whiskey and oh, that fit bloke from America that he was chatting up, or was chatting up Liam. 

Dimples. There were definitely dimples but he the American had blond hair, decidedly not this dark. Decidedly not so curly at the ends. Decidedly also, not this tall. The bloke lying on Liam is nearly as long as Liam is, his feet dangling over the arm of the sofa Liam can see when he tilts his head up a little. He must have been doing alright to find not one but two lads the night before. A personal best considering there's been no one since. Well, since London.

London makes him think of Harry and Harry reminds him of. . . of Not Harry. 

Of the Not Harry that possibly maybe is actually Real Harry lying on Liam's chest. Liam's heart beats twice as fast as he holds his breath, lifting up the throw so he can see just who is on top of him. Possible Harry has his pants on, these tight black - more black, why does more black mean something? - pants on and nothing else. Just endless golden skin and a few inked marks that Liam doesn't recognise at the curve of his arm that falls toward the floor. 

"'s cold, Li," this deep voice grumbles and Liam sits up, pushing Possible Oh Shit Maybe Actual Harry to the floor in one go.

"Owww," Yes, Actual Harry says from the floor, this long sound that has Liam's eyes widening because it's _Harry_.

Harry.

These green eyes slowly come into view, Harry wrapping the blanket around his torso as he sits up, stretches his long arms in the air and wow, there's a few new things permanently etched on his skin. A ridiculous looking butterfly, some weird looking symbols on his wrist and the birds on his chest and. 

It could be the script but, it looks like an L on one side and a P on the other of Harry's collarbones.

Liam doesn't think on that. Just lets that slide because Harry is here and he's real and he's.

"You're not in New York." Liam says because it's the first thing that comes to mind and Liam finds he's also got no clothes on. Just pants, at the very least.

Harry grins, rubbing at his eyes before answering. "You finally getting that are you? I forgot how cute you are when you're drunk, you were _very_ drunk last night,"

Liam doesn't know if he should take that as he was very cute or just very drunk, so he leaves it, concentrating more on the fact Harry is _here_.

"You're here. How did you get here?"

Harry crosses his long legs, pulls the comforter up over his shoulders. He looks really, really warm. And beautiful. And Liam can't believe he's here.

He shouldn't be here.

"You shouldn't be here," 

Harry frowns, "Why not? You invited me in, sort of,"

"I thought you weren't real," Liam says, feeling his face flush and realising as Harry stares at him with the tiniest of grins that he's kind of naked up here so he grabs a cushion to cover himself.

"You remember that, do you? Do you remember anything else by chance?"

Liam shakes his head, of all the things he could have said to Harry, all the drunk truths he could have spilled there are too many to pin down one that won't be utterly embarrassing.

Won't give away secrets he's kept for near a year now.

"Why are you here?" He settles on instead, because that's easier than admitting to things. It's easier to get Harry talking.

"Because of you. Because it's Christmas and I missed home. I missed Doctor Who and watching all the Christmas Specials. I missed skating at Hyde Park. I missed. I missed home," Harry finishes with a shrug.

"Well, why aren't you there then? It's not exactly like Wolverhampton is close to Cheshire, Harry. Or even London,"

Harry laughs, running his fingers through his ridiculously long hair and it looks dirty but Liam still wouldn't mind touching it. If he was allowed. That's something friends would do, he vaguely remembers Harry's fingernails tickling his scalp last night or early this morning. Maybe it's a thing people who used to be friends can do, too.

"I am home. I'm here aren't I?"

It's Liam's turn to frown and be confused because he is. They're in England, yeah, and that's home but, it doesn't feel like that's completely what Harry is hinting at. Like Harry knows something else and hasn't shared it with Liam.

"Harry, it's early and I'm hungover so if you could just tell me exactly what is going on I'd really like that," Liam tries for snappy but it comes out more tired than he hoped.

Harry grins, getting up on his knees and crawling closer to Liam.

"You said some pretty interesting things last night. You said a few things that were on the money for why I'd come, actually,"

"Harry," Liam whines, a little out of breath because Harry's up on his knees now, hands curled over Liam's thighs. A gentle touch but it burns nonetheless. This is _Harry_ who Liam has tried to rid himself of. Has tried to convince himself that he isn't, can't be, in love with and this is Harry who is _right here_ after being gone for so long.

"I missed you. I missed you so much that I couldn't stay there any more. I couldn't be there when half of me was here. Do you know how much crap I got for wearing your stupid navy pullover with the-"

"The one with the Rudolph on the front? The one my _granny_ knitted me for Christmas? You had that?" Liam asks because he'd looked for it everywhere because his Gran loved to see him in it every Christmas and he didn't want to disappoint. She was eighty six and her eyesight wasn't fabulous but he liked to keep her happy. Even if it meant Nicola and Ruth laughing behind his back more often than not because _they_ had plain red and green with snowflakes. Nothing as gaudy as a great big red nosed reindeer on the front.

Harry ducks his head for a minute, cheeks pinking up, he skates his fingertips back and forth over Liam's bare thighs and it has his skin prickling into goosebumps in seconds. Traitorous dick showing interest in his pants. His pants that are quite close to Harry's hands if he thinks about it. Which he won't because this is Harry. Harry who gave him no consideration at all before accepting a job miles and miles away. Harry who broke Liam's heart.

"Yeah, that one. I took it because it was yours and it smelled like you and it still does a little. Well, not a lot anymore because I've worn it so much and it made me realise. It made me _want_ to come home. To come to you."

"Me?" Liam asks, mind spinning out of control other than to focus on breathing and Harry's face. Harry's face where all these words keep spilling out of that Liam is trying to make sense of but failing.

Harry sits up further, is right in Liam's eyeline now and he should be pushing Harry away. Should be shoving him hard because Liam didn't ask for this. He never asked Harry to come back and pull on his heart like a yo-yo. He didn't ask Harry to be here - even if he did let him in the door - Liam was intoxicated. Not quite all there and all that. 

It doesn't stop him from feeling the tiniest amount of hope.

"I would have stayed. I would have stayed if you asked me back in London. I didn't know what we were to each other and we never talked about that night of Niall's birthday so I just thought. . . I thought it was all you wanted. Just a bit of fun. Then you left, you packed everything and you _left_ and you never said. If you had of said how you felt or maybe I should have, I wouldn't have gone if you asked me to stay."

Liam blinks. He blinks and blinks and licks over his lips, hating how dry his mouth is and how _awful_ it tastes. Harry just keeps looking at him and Liam keeps hearing what Harry's said over and over in his head but it doesn't make sense. Can't make sense. 

"You could still ask me. You could ask me right now. If nothing's. . . if nothing has changed for you then you could ask me," Harry says and he looks nervous, his fingertips tapping lightly on Liam's thighs, the quick blink of his eyes and how he's chewing on the corner of his bottom lip, sucking it a little into his mouth between breaths.

"Ask me. Just, ask me Liam."

Liam breathes in and out. 

He thinks about how Harry looks now. How he looked then when Liam watched him walk out the door the day before Liam left. Thinks about how Harry looked when he told Liam he was leaving to go to New York. He thinks about Harry's face when they woke up that morning after Niall's birthday, the minutes before either of them said a word. Before things changed and it was just Liam and Harry and everything they felt hidden behind small smiles and eyes filled with emotion neither of them would name. Could name right then.

He thinks about what he sees now and it's that. It's that moment once more but it's different. It's bigger. It's an opportunity that Liam can't watch pass by. Can't let go of.

"Stay."


End file.
